


things you didn't say at all

by spookyscullyy



Category: The Silence of the Lambs (1991), The X-Files
Genre: F/F, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:13:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3376007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyscullyy/pseuds/spookyscullyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tumblr prompt fic: my first attempt at scully/clarice. they are both babies at the academy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	things you didn't say at all

walking down the hallway was the worst. you would think that the bulky pantsuits, the minimal makeup, and the gun would’ve stopped the piercing eyes and the oily smiles, but apparently not. all they had here was each other. 

dana and clarice had found each other early on, in one of the first orientation seminars at the academy. they had both been dwarfed by the men around them, and had discovered that a smile was sometimes the best weapon, but one that could easily backfire. now, three years into their training, the women relied on one another for emotional support, homework tips, and the occasional sparring partner. they had agreed to call each other by their first names since no one else did; it was a small little lifeline to the world outside the academy.

the women heard the rumors. they weren’t easy to avoid: their class at the academy was small, and both dana and clarice were very attuned to whispered comments and snide glances (although scully was much less practiced at hiding her eye rolls). clarice pretended to laugh them off but her strict southern upbringing meant that her blush was very sincere, as was her embarrassment at the feelings dana was starting to kindle deep in her stomach. dana for her part liked to play to the throngs of drooling men, and often slipped her hand into clarice’s waiting one as they quickly raced to the shooting range. she enjoyed the feeling of power; the throaty giggle of clarice and the gaping mouths of their neanderthal peers. it started off as a joke but as the nights grew longer and their courses became more difficult, dana started to hold clarice’s hand whether there were other people around or not. 

sometimes their study sessions involved whiskey and dana’s favorite mix tape, their limbs entwined on clarice’s tiny bed while dana tapped her pen on her textbook and clarice gnawed her pencil to a pulp. after a few drinks, the books would fall to the floor and clarice would nestle into the soft curve of dana’s stomach while telling her in short rapid breaths stories of her father, and then, much later, her time on the ranch in Montana. The tears never fell, but they lingered in her eyes, kept at bay by dana’s comforting murmur and steady heartbeat. 

dana would regale her with whispered stories of long mornings spent quietly drifting on the ocean, or the crackling feeling in her fingers when she first held a scalpel. they would lay quietly in the dim light of clarice’s desk lamp forehead to forehead, not pretending they were anything more or less than what they were. after all, no one was watching.


End file.
